


Like A Blown Out Candle

by lostsouls



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Ziam Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:06:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostsouls/pseuds/lostsouls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>He always finds himself wondering what Zayn thinks about when it’s past midnight and he’s not reading a book that captured his heart, or listening to music that caught his breath, he wonders about the thoughts, normal thoughts that pass his mind when it’s 3 in the morning and his passion isn’t feeding on his brain.</i>"</p><p>Or the one where passion is a disease, Zayn is a little too sick, and Liam is just dragged along to all of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Blown Out Candle

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I'd finally post any of the things I write on here, and this is my first.  
> If you happen to stumble upon this, I hope you enjoy it and feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Liam doesn’t think he ever had a choice since the day they met.

 

He remembers the first time he saw Zayn, the way he rushed through the local coffee shop across his street dressed in an elegant Regency green brocade tailcoat, a high collared shirt along with a knotted tie, he wore long black pants tucked into long black boots, he had fake sideburns on his hair. He looked like he just came out of the 1800’s and Liam can swear he’s seen that costume before, he just couldn’t pinpoint exactly why the fuck was this guy dressed like this. He stared at him, along with everyone else in the coffee shop as he made his way over to the bar.

“I’d like a cup of earl gray tea please.” Zayn said to the bartender.

 He turned to look at Liam, his eyes were big, golden irises holding the sun in between. It hurt to look at him.

“Nice suit, where did you find this hat I couldn’t find it anywhere.” Zayn said.

Liam looked down at his white shirt with the large peace sign on it, and his ripped jeans and wondered if this guy was nuts.

“I’m not wearing a hat?” Liam replied, lifting his eyebrows.

Zayn laughed and sat down on the stool next to him, then said “Oh you people are so oblivious.”

Liam snickered, because here comes a guy who’s dressed like it’s the fucking 1800’s, complementing Liam on a suit and a hat he’s not even wearing, and yet he claims they’re the ones who’re oblivious.

“Well I like your tailcoat, but don’t you think it ran out of fashion like, i don’t know, 2 centuries ago?” Liam remarked.

“It’s not fashion, It’s who I chose to be today.”

Liam furrowed his brows in confusion, demanding explanation.

“I have been meditating of the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty _man_ can bestow." Zayn said, and God that’s _Darcy_ , as in Mr Darcy from _Pride and Prejudice_ , as in he’s freaking impersonating a Jane Austen character. Liam has never been more intrigued in his life.

Zayn never dressed as Darcy again, he never was the same person more than once.

***

Today his hair was pushed back with enormous amounts of gel, and he wore a black suit with a white shirt underneath and a black bow tie. He had a guitar slung to his right side, and Liam is sure Zayn doesn’t even know how to play the guitar. He never fails to impress him.

“Who are you supposed to be today?” Liam asked.

Zayn’s jaw dropped in fake surprise, “Are you serious?”

“Sorry not all of us have background knowledge as you do Zayn.”

“I’m Johnny Cash Liam,” he said in a proud tone, with wide eyes and a huge smile, that smile where he sticks his tongue between his teeth which makes him look like a 10 year old. Liam can feel his heart skip a beat, “I thought the guitar would make it obvious.”

“Yes, because Johnny Cash is the only human being alive to ever play the guitar, dressed in a suit,” Liam rolled his eyes.

Zayn rolled his eyes in return and stuck his tongue out, and Liam decides he likes his tiny bow tie that is not actually tied right and it’s so adorable it makes him want to scream.

The thing is, Liam doesn’t know what Zayn looks like in normal clothes; clothes people their age wear like jeans and shirts and sneakers, he doesn’t know what the world looks like in Zayn’s eyes, if he ever sees their town the way Liam sees it; clouded gray skies with dull trees and a little too calm streets. He always finds himself wondering what Zayn thinks about when it’s past midnight and he’s not reading a book that captured his heart, or listening to music that caught his breath, he wonders about the thoughts, _normal_ thoughts that pass his mind when it’s 3 in the morning and his passion isn’t feeding on his brain. But Liam knows how passionate Zayn is, how it draws rainbows in his hazel eyes and grows flowers on his tanned color skin.

He envies him a little, that he’ll admit. Nothing is impossible to Zayn, sometimes it’s the 20’s and he’s _Gatsby_ , and he’d point at girls and describe their glittered gowns and bob wig hair with the decorated headbands, and Liam doesn’t see it. Sometimes it’s a supernatural series and everyone is werewolves and vampires and warlocks, and he has Liam running along with him chasing demons, and Liam doesn’t see it. And every time he tries to imagine things the way Zayn describes it, he fails, it’s all too real for Zayn and Liam wishes he could blink his eyes and open them to something other than gray skies and calm streets.

 

Zayn stands on a table in the middle of the park, and greets his non existent crowd, and says “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.” and it sounds exactly like the way he’d say it, Zayn always knew how to master his impersonation.

Liam claps for him and screams “Go Johnny!”

He starts singing I Walk The Line, because it’s his favorite and Liam knows that because he hears him mumbling it to himself sometimes when he’s distracted, or when he’s focusing on one of his paintings or the doodles he draws in his little sketchpad.

People walk by and eye him warily, something that always puts Liam on edge but Zayn never seems to care; he never cares about the way people treat him or make fun of what he wears or how he talks, the way they call him “freak!” on almost daily basis and he would smile, and it’s not a sad smile it’s a proud one. Liam envies him a little more.

“How is _City of Glass_ going for you?” Zayn asks him after he’s done with his incredible performance.

“Great actually, I’m at the part where Max dies, it’s a little sad.” Liam says.

“Well hurry up Liam, you’re missing out on all the action.”

Liam rolls his eyes again.

***

Liam is startled when he hears a knock on his door, he looks at his bed time clock to find it 7 in the morning and god he wants to kill Zayn, because he’s sure it’s Zayn, because no one else is up and out this early in the morning.

“It’s too early to deal with mundanes, we need to get you all dressed up.” Zayn says the minute Liam opens the door.

He’s dressed in a sleeveless leather jacket that has just too many zips, and black leather pants along with black leather boots. He’s holding a dagger in his hands and Liam stares at it in shock.

“Well I couldn’t find a longer one, and what’s a shadowhunter without his Seraph blade?” Zayn explains.

Liam stares at him instead, too sleepy to comprehend what he’s saying.

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Come on Liam we have demons to hunt and annoying vampires to deal with!”

And Liam shouldn’t be surprised really, he should have guessed Zayn’s act of the day would be _The Mortal Instruments_ considering that they’ve both been reading the books, an unrealistic series of shadowhunters and demons and magic blades.

“Jace Wayland, what an honor!” Liam says and laughs loudly. “If you’re going to be Jace who am I going to be, Clary?”

“Funny! No you’re going to be Alec now go put on all the leather shit you own before I call for my Seraph blade and stab you.” Zayn spoke in a snobby attitude, which closely resembles Jace.

And Liam wants to laugh at the irony, how Alec in the book is the guy who’s in love with Jace while Jace is too oblivious to notice it, he thinks Zayn couldn’t be more accurate about his choice of characters.

 

They make their way to the park, two guys dressed in leather outfits holding daggers in their hands and wearing eyeliner on their eyes and for once Liam doesn’t care. He knows he’s been warned; warned about people like Zayn with dangerous minds and limitless imaginations, people who blur the line between reality and fiction, who shut down the world with their eyes and light it up with their mind, a contagious poison that will swim in your veins and climb your ribcage just to lick your heart. And maybe Liam’s poisoned, dragged along to the haziness to each different world he creates everyday. But he isn’t like Zayn, he only wishes he was.

“Liam look!” Zayn says, “Welcome to Alicante, the home city of the Nephilim.” He had a look of utter shock on his face and his jaw dropped open, you can see sparkles on his eyes that shone with amusement. Liam looked around to where they were standing in the park surrounded by nothing but benches and trees.

“Oh my god! look at the demon towers, they’re just as high as I imagined them to be. And look at all these canals.” He squeaked, running towards something which Liam assumes must be the wells of water in his mind. “Okay wait,” he stopped half way through, “Jace Wayland is not a character that gets amused easily, get it together Zayn.” He said to himself, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration like he flawed his own made up character. Liam shook his head in fondness and smiled.

Alicante is the City of Glass in the series, the capital of the country; a city made up of gold and honey colored stone with red tile roofs, and has lots of canals he remembers. He tries so hard to imagine it the way it was described in the book, but Liam can’t break past the walls of reality built around his head, creating barriers between him and fiction.

“So what’s our mission Zayn? I’m slightly confused.” Liam asks.

Zayn smiles wickedly, “We’re in love, we’re breaking the rules because Jace isn’t in love with Clary he’s in love with Alec!” Zayn’s eyes are big and he continues “we need to get acceptance for our love, to change the laws against shadowhunters of the same sex to bond.”

Liam is certainly sure this does not happen in the book considering the fact that the whole series mainly revolves around Jace and Clary, but he has always admired the way Zayn tries giving secondary characters their own full lengthed stories, altering plots to fit his imagination. And for once Liam wishes all of this was real, wishes he was actually Alec and Zayn was in love with him, that Zayn would fight the world and break the rules for their love to last.

And so they spend the rest of the day in Alicante, the City of Glass, going to the court and talking to _Fairies_ , and running from demons until the sun unravels around them. And for a minute, Liam can feel it, the glass and canals and demon towers, the fangs on vampire teeth. For a minute, he can see all of it, the world his mind tried so hard to resist.

***

Liam goes over to Zayn’s house a few days later, feeling something new deep in his bones, something that makes his own skin look different in his eyes, like if someone were to cut his body open they’d see gardens growing inside.

His mother opens the door for him, and suddenly her expression turns into something he can’t quite identify; it looks like pity. Liam never gets to interact with Zayn’s mum much because they never stay in Zayn’s house long enough for him to have a full conversation with her, but she always smiles politely at him, and offers him cookies which he greatly appreciates.

“Hey Mrs Malik, how is it going?” he smiles at her. She doesn’t have the same eyes as Zayn, he noticed; because Zayn’s eyes always look like there’s fire inside them, they always shine brighter than neon lights, while his mother’s eyes are dark and tired, he tries not to see it but there’s sadness in them too.

She doesn’t invite him inside, instead she goes to stand next to him on the front step of their house and closes the door behind her.

“Listen Liam, you’re not doing yourself any good coming here and hanging out with him.” She says in a hushed tone, with the same look of pity still on her face.

“Everyone knows what’s going on, and I know it too, you should be smarter than staying close.” She continues.

“What do you mean what’s going on?” Liam asks, he’s taken aback by her warnings.

“You think it’s normal for people to paint the world in different colors, and build up cities that don’t exist and imagine people dressed in different clothes?” she asks.

“Just because he likes to see the world in diversity doesn’t mean he’s not normal,” Liam says, “you can’t turn against him like everyone else Mrs. Malik, trust me I’ve seen it, the world in his eyes, I’ve finally seen it and it’s beautiful.” He says in a desperate tone.

Suddenly Mrs Malik’s pity has doubled and she looks at him with worry in her sad eyes. “Don’t drag yourself into this Liam, blow your own candle before he lights it up for you.” She says and walks back towards the house, she doesn’t turn to give him another look.

 

As Liam walks away, the house shrinking the further he moves, he thinks about what she said to him. And he realizes that it’s too late, he’s already dragged into this, whatever this is supposed to mean, the world Zayn lives in and everyone else avoids. He feels like his heart hasn’t just been licked, it’s been swallowed.

***

For the next few days, he knows something is different. Every book he reads changes something within him, every song he listens to brings out a different side of him. Sometimes it’s the 50’s and he’s Johnny Cash, sometimes it’s the 80’s and he’s in England drumming for The Smiths because he’s Mike Joyce. And it feels great, better than anything he has ever experienced, he feels the power of his own mind, he feels the love towards everything he ever does. The way the sky looks bluer, and the trees look greener and the air smells like vanilla, because he likes vanilla, because he can make the air smell like _vanilla_.

He goes out for a run, and he runs so fast he can feel everything Zayn used to talk about when he took off running; the little things like the way the air whips his face and seeps through his bones, the way his lungs fight to breathe after a while and his legs cramp and his organs feel like they’re about to stop functioning. But he keeps running, and after a while everything that hurts within him start to become something he enjoys, the pain of breathing, the numbness of his legs, he’s never been more in love with life.

When he reaches Zayn’s house, his body dripping with sweat and his lungs wheezing with pain, he sees him sitting on the swing in the backyard and he feels himself coming undone. He’s dressed in dark jeans, and a white shirt that has a name of some band on it, and Liam feels like he’s being mocked.

He walks closer to him and says “Zayn!” breathless, and it sounds more like someone who’s been lost for a long time and has just been found.

Zayn looks up at him, and it feels like he’s been slapped on the face. His eyes are dark, golden irises so dark they can’t hold the sun in between. It hurt to look at him. He remembers the times looking at him felt like a blow, because he couldn’t keep up, he was everywhere, they’d be in old London in a Jane Austen or a Leo Tolstoy novel and suddenly he’d be talking about how tomorrow they’ll go to _India_ , Zayn was the butterfly and he was always scared of being nothing but a flower he once stumbled upon.

And looking at him now still feels like a blow, a different kind of blow, like he’s become nothing but a blown out candle in the middle of the darkest room. He looks so _normal_ , and he never looked more out of place.

He sits down next to him on the swing and says “Are you okay, are you being a modernized character today?”

“Oh no,” he shakes his head and looks down, his fingers intertwined between his lap. “Didn’t you hear? I am a disease, I am a walking form of illness.” He says. “Look at me, I am nothing but a stubbed out cigarette on a sidewalk, stepped on by a thousand of feet.” He smiles sadly, and Liam feels the hammering of his heartbeats.

“What are you talking about? No Zayn you’re fine, forget what everyone else says.”

“You see Liam I’ve been diagnosed, I’m sick with passion, my own mind diseased me.” He laughs, bitter and angry and filled with hate.

He listens to him talk about what happened, how his mum started to pour medicine in his food as treatment, how he would wake up each morning feeling like no one else but himself, how the world suddenly looked colorless and the town was monotonous. He listens to him talk about the diagnosis and the disease, everything that currently describes Liam.

Liam feels the anger boiling his blood, he wants to shake him, to drag and pull the life they buried deep within himself, because right now he doesn’t look like a fresh spring flower on an early Sunday morning, but instead he looks like a withered flower, slowly dying, and the world that was once bedded between his petals is crumbling to pieces.

 

That’s what he’s been warned about, because they live in a world that eyes people like Zayn, like _him_ as if they’re dangerous, as if their strong love towards everything they like is a threat to human beings. And he wants to scream because they made Zayn believe so, for making him feel like he isn’t normal, like he’s sick when really he’s nothing more than a normal person who likes stuff and decides to bring them to life instead of just imagining it.

Liam wants to do something, _anything_. And he doesn’t understand how they have the guts to call this sickness, to treat him like a disease. A long time ago, he would have believed it, would have seen the danger of being close to Zayn but right now, he knows the world looks better through Zayn’s eyes, now that he’s seen it now that he can feel it, he’s never been more alive.

***

The next few months are nothing but endless days colored with grief, Zayn wears jeans and shirts and sneakers, his eyes are lifeless and if he smiles, it’s a sad sad smile that Liam wishes he could ignore. Every time he knocks on Zayn’s door, he wishes he’d come out dressed in one of his weird characters, speaking so fast with enthusiasm that Liam can’t keep up. But it never happens, and he’s scared it never will.

“I never knew the sky could be gray, I thought it was always blue.” Zayn says one day.

Liam looks up at the sky, it looks blue to him, so blue like it’s one of those oiled masterpieces you find in museums. But he knows what Zayn’s talking about, he spent all his life looking at nothing but gray skies. He knows.

“Gray skies aren’t so bad.” Liam says and Zayn gives him a blank look, because they both know it’s bad. It’s so fucking bad.

“You have a beautiful shade of brown in your eyes Liam, have I ever told you this?” Zayn asks, Liam feels the world hanging upside down, feels the blood in his veins run in every direction but his heart.

He shakes his head, “No you haven’t.”

“Shame, your eyes are the brightest thing I see these days, the only color that makes sense to me.”

Liam shifts to look at him, he moves a little closer, so close he can feel Zayn’s breaths on his mouth, and is it so selfish of him to be happy that the only distinct color that makes sense to Zayn is his eyes? Is it selfish that for just a quiet moment, he wants it to remain this way?

“Your eyes were the only thing that made sense to me for a long time Zayn.” He breathes.

“But they don’t anymore, do they?” Zayn’s eyes move to his lips.

Liam kisses him then, because he doesn’t know what else to do, doesn’t know how to tell Zayn that every fiber in his being makes sense to Liam, the little freckle in his eyes, the way his hand moves when he draws, the way he sticks his tongue between his teeth when he smiles and even when all of it seems a little different now, it’s still the only thing that makes sense to Liam.

***

And so they kiss, taking it a little further each time, exploring more inches of skin every now and then until Liam’s naked body is completely and utterly a property of Zayn’s, physically and literally.

Zayn tells Liam that the sky looks a little bluer, and the air smells like a bit of strawberries sometimes, the way it always did.

And Liam makes a promise to himself to bring out every ounce of passion running in Zayn’s body until it’s all he has left. It could be taking time, but there’s progress, he doesn’t take the medicine anymore and he doesn’t smile sadly anymore.

One day Liam is startled with a knock on his door.

“I’m no Christian Bale, but I think the cape looks really good on me,” Zayn smiles wickedly, sticking his tongue between his teeth, “and those tights make my butt look cute, don’t you think?” Zayn puts one hand on his waist, and points his chin to the sky.

And Liam thinks it all sounds too familiar.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it through the end, I'd like to thank you anyway and kudos or comments would be great.  
> I also didn't revise this, so I apologize for all the mistakes.


End file.
